


Damn, Sorry About That

by burlesque_articulation



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Items on the Balcony AU, M/M, Prompt writing, cw: creative language (swearing), cw: drinking, death of a beloved plant, jackothy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesque_articulation/pseuds/burlesque_articulation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Jackothy + you got drunk and jumped out your 6th floor window." Describe this work in two words? "My bad."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first part of my jackothy "Items on the Balcony au" which honestly only exists because I thought staying up until four am was a good idea. I'm not sure if I'll add to it via chapters, or make a collection of snippets. If you've any ideas on which one would do best, don't hesitate to give me a shout :3c ((in other words I'm bad at making decisions by myself lmao))

 

Timothy didn’t get a lot of time to himself- particularly not as of late, anyways. Between getting in all his last minute coursework, studying for his final, and juggling a shitty job, he barely had the time to make a simple breakfast in the morning.

As if on cue for breaking him out of his internal monologue, a knock came on his door, making him briefly regret so many things as turned down the heat on the pot of instant noodles on the stove in front of him, covered it, and headed out of the small galley kitchen toward the apartment door. “Hello?” Tim’s voice lacked all enthusiasm as he cracked open the door.

“Uh, hey, there I’ve got a-”

“Wrong flat, you’re looking for the guy directly above me on the sixth floor, have a nice day,” he nodded a quick goodbye before closing the door before the delivery person could even look at their drop list to verify the mistake. Tim didn’t need to suffer through the second hand embarrassment, and he was sure the delivery person didn’t want an audience for their screw up, especially since it was the fifth time since Tim had moved into the apartment that the same person had made the mistake of bringing packages to him instead of whoever it was upstairs that apparently shared similar looks to Tim.

He’d long stopped being polite and patient, and just got to the point by saying ‘wrong person,’ then closing his door and continuing with his day. Like he was doing right now, taking a moment to check on his noddles, then taking the allotted time before they were done to go around his apartment and water his plants. There weren’t too many indoors because of how small his apartment was, so he had to keep most of them out on his small balcony, or at least, the bigger ones. He’d somewhat taken to hording plants since the apartment complex didn’t allow pets, making flowers and cactus the next best thing.

Timothy hummed a lazy tune to something he’d heard on the radio early as he refilled a cup of water with the kitchen tap before heading back down a narrow hall until it opened up to a small living room with a sliding door that lead out to the balcony. Careful not to spill the water as he slipped out, inhaled the somewhat fresh air, before flinching at the sound of the window above him opening. The asshole that lived upstairs having a habit of tossing things out his window. As a result, Timothy had also taken to collecting those things too. He was currently in possession of not one, but five rubber ducks, three stress balls, a tricycle tire, and a paperback copy of _Pride & Prejudice_.

So naturally, it wasn’t until Tim was sure nothing was going to come flying out said window, that he ventured out from under the lip of the door frame to water his plants. He clicked his tongue at a small potted cactus that sat on the thick railing, “Maverick, when did you get out here?” Timothy tutted at the plant, giving it the tiniest drink of water, so as not to accidentally drown it. “Well, I suppose as long as you’re careful, and it isn’t too windy,” he smiled warmly, gently poking the top of the cactus before turning back around to water the two hanging plants on either side of the door onto the balcony, music starting up from the apartment above, blaring out of the now open window. Timothy rolled his eyes, not because it was bad music, it was just obnoxiously loud, and Tim was pretty sure that his plants weren’t too fond of it.

Sighing to himself, gave his two fuchsia plants a look over in case they needed any pruning, before making his way back inside to check on his noodles, however, before he’d barely stepped a foot inside, there a was loud blatant curse from above.  
“Oh, _shit!_ ”

Timothy turned his head, craning his neck, eyes skyward just in time to watch the mysterious man who lived the next floor up come gracelessly falling down onto his balcony, the man’s legs buckling, what looked quite painfully, on impact and their back roughly jarring the railing, all while the seemed to manage to keep an expert grip on a can of beer in their hand. Now, all of this would have honestly been fine, if not for the fact that when this idiot came flailing out of the sky, they’d knocked over Maverick!

“YOU DRUNK BASTARD! YOU JUST KILLED MY PLANT!” Terror ripped at Timothy’s soul as the cup he’d had in hand feel to the ground as he shoved the man out of his way, watching in pure agony as the cactus made it’s five story descent to the ground below. Timothy managed to tear his gaze away before the pot shattered against the sidewalk pavement below, a violent gaze shooting daggers at the tipsy man leaning on his railing like it was life support. “You!”

The man gave him a slow blink before a proud grin graced his surprisingly good-looking face. “Aye, at least I didn’t spill?” He shook his admittedly un-spilled can. 

Timothy opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to force a coherent retort out before finally settling with just shouting, “my plant!”

The brunet man rolled his eyes, exhaling, speaking as his eyes traveled down toward the sidewalk below, “look, I’m sure the actual plant is- oh, no. _ohhhhhhh_ , nope.”

His eyes snapped back down to where Maverick lay, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth as a street-cleaner ground its way down the sidewalk, directly over the fallen plant.

“Damn, sorry about that.”

Timothy’s bottom lip trembled under his hand as he stared blankly at the intruder in his life before he just, he let a long breath out and walked back inside his flat, not even bothering to slide the door close behind him. As he continued down the hall, he just took continuous deep breaths. It was fine. It was a just a plant, anyways. And oh, dammit, his friggin noodles! He quickly flicked off the burner, taking the cover off the noodles, sighing with relief that he hadn’t let them get boiled to a pulp.

He didn’t bother getting a bowl or anything, getting rid of all excess water, adding the seasoning, and then freezing in the hall on his way to relax in his living room when he noticed the man was standing there staring at him awkwardly from outside on his balcony. “Uh… erm,” he cleared his throat, “could I come in?”

A fork full of noodles fell back into the part as Tim curled a lip at the request. “Why the hell would I let you in?”

The man took a moment, eyeing Tim like _he_  was the one intoxicated. “I mean, it’s really that or I follow the way your plant went to get off your balcony.”

 _Oooh, riiiight._ Timothy pursed his lips in a grumpy pout, far from having the coldness necessary to tell the man to go ahead and take a leap of faith. “Yeah, fine, just close the door while you’re at it,” he huffed, turning around and retreating back to the kitchen. By the time the drunk managed to fumble their way down the hall to the kitchen, Tim was leaning against the counter, stuffing noodles into his mouth with a grouchy vigor.

The man cleared his throat, shuffling a few steps in the galley kitchen, just far enough to place the cup Tim had dropped on the counter. “I just wanted to-” whatever he’d begun to say was soon interrupted by a stray belch, that left both Tim and himself with looks of slight disgust on their faces. “Sorry. Also, sorry.”

Tim gave the man a pained look. “The door’s just, it’s right there, please just leave.”    
They nodded slowly, shuffling toward the way Tim had gestured to a few steps before pausing to turn back and say, “I am, y'know, uh, sorry… ‘bout your plant thing.”

Setting down his pot, Tim crossed his arms over his chest and let out a long breath, finally just letting his face relax. “Y'know what, okay. I appreciate your apology, and, I mean, it’s… it’s fine. Honestly. I mean, I did technically steal that plant from my ex when we broke up anyways, so, y'know what? It- it’s fine, man.”

“Oh… huh…” A satisfied smile crossed the stranger’s face. “Well, uh, ha, at least if they were the type to sue over that kind of thing, I mean, I technically just helped you get rid of the evidence, yeah?”

Timothy gave the man a slow blink, beginning to shake his head before lazily shrugging instead, “Yeah, sure. I would say he isn’t the type, but I mean, I didn’t think he was the type to break up with me in a Taco Bell, so…” It was after that left his mouth that he realized maybe it was time for the drunk intruder to definitely go home, that is, before Timothy felt the blatant urge to say anything else stupid. The drunk intruder seemed to feel the same way.

“Door that way?”

“Yup, yes indeed it is, have a nice night,” Timothy nodded, clearing his throat and standing up from where he’d been leaning against the counter. “Oh, and maybe don’t have a window open next time you’re drinking?”

The man gave a half-assed salute of sorts before he seemed to find the door and disappear out it without much more then a grunt for a goodbye. Timothy stood just shaking his head for a few awhile longer before just, shrugging it off. What a way to end a Friday night, huh?

* * *

The next morning turned out to be just as ridiculous as the night before when Timothy woke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. At seven in the morning on a Saturday morning, he was bleary-eyed and hoping the person had a death wish. Half way to the door, he shouted for them to quit knocking, because he was on his way, but that seemed to have served as a signal for the knocker to flee, because when Tim finally reached the door, there was no one in sight.

He tiredly peered down the hall both ways before looking directly down where there were two things. A fucking cactus and a goddamn note.

The note reading, “ _Hey, yeah, I really am sorry about yesterday, so here, have a new pokey-plant thingy, that I mean, at least you didn’t have to steal. Name’s Jack by the way, and this is in no way meant to make you feel obligated to maybe return something that might’ve fallen out my window and onto you balcony after I made it back to my flat. Because I swear whatever you do find out there Definitely did Not come from my window. Regards, Jack ;)_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “oh… sorryomgwrongnumber” + whatever pairing = Jackothy. Describe this update in two words? Jack, wh y...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 3 am in the morning, it got a little out of hand but the person who prompted me loved it apparently, so enjoy the newest addition to my items on the balcony au~
> 
> Content Warning for the implication of there being... a, err, nsfw object... Heh.

Timothy wanted to just smack his face flat against a wall and just start screaming. He wasn’t going to, but he sure as hell was going to imagine doing it super, _super_ hard.

Honestly, the fact that the man upstairs, _Jack_ , had the audacity to pretend that- that the object Tim had found on his balcony wasn’t their’s, was unbelievable! How immature could one man be? Especially for him to let it just fall down onto his balcony in the first place?! What the hell would’ve happened if Tim had had a cat? Or a roommate? What would this Jack-ass have done then? Not fucking that, he bet.

But assuming it was just an accident, and that the prick was actually super embarrassed- then Timothy understood why he found Jack’s number written, incredibly small, and even more than a little messy, in the bottom right hand corner of the note he found in front of his door that morning with the small cactus; Maverick 2.0. Timothy squinted long and hard at the tiny numbers with his phone in hand for a good ten minutes before just assuming that it was in fact a 7, not a 2, before dialling the number and crumpling up the note. 7:30 am and he was already loosing spitting nails. It was a record, that was for sure.

The phone rang exactly seven times before it went to a generic answering machine message. “This user currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Timothy ground his teeth over one another, any inclination to believe the best about the man upstairs diminishing into thin air. The moment the beep came, he went off like a bottle rocket, “Unavailable my ass! You were literally just at my door! And don’t pretend you weren’t because have the goddamn plant to prove it! And what the hell is this, “Oh that thing isn’t mine!”- or whatever because _Bullshit_! How could anyone be so goddamn- errrgh- that they would even be able to _loose_ something like _that_? And then _deny_ it?! Because it’s _obviously_ yours because _no one else has a friggin window over my balcony but YOU_. So own up, or at least apologize for christ’s sake!” Timothy was ranting as he carried Maverick 2.0 out onto his balcony, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear to slide open the door, stepping awkwardly around the fallen object as he continued his tirade. “I mean, honestly! Like falling down onto my balcony, drunk as hell wasn’t enough? Now, now- _this_?! Like I could understand if it- if like- y’know what? No. No, I don’t know anyway this could be acceptable. At all. You are absolutely ridiculous! And another thing-“

“Could you shut the fuck up down there?” Timothy blinked, eyes traveling up to the window above the balcony where Jack had his head poking out, messy haired with dark circles under his eyes and a very unappreciative look. “Do you even know how early in the morning it is?”

Timothy stared for a good ten seconds longer before holding his phone away from his ear, looking at it, then back to Jack. “That was a seven wasn’t it?”

Jack gave him a queer look, squinting intensely before it seemed to click what Tim was referring too, then he just kind of… giggled? chuckled? something that implied that it had not, in fact, been a seven. “Oh, honey…”

Timothy’s face burned bright as a tomato as he laughed awkwardly into the receiver, “oh… sorryomgwrongnumber, haha mmmbyeee…” he quickly ended the call, tucking his phone into the pocket of his sweats, before sending the most fearsome death glare he could muster towards the man above him. “You’re a real- a real piece of _shit_ , y’know that!?” Timothy swore loudly.

Timothy’s cursing only managed to make Jack laugh harder though, “I am? Says the one that was literally just tearing apart some poor unsuspecting neighbour!” Jack shouted back, seeming to find everything all too amusing.

Timothy huffed, briefly considering throwing Maverick 2.0 at the bastard. But then a much brighter idea came to mind as his eyes darted down to look at the ‘object’. It seemed only right to return it. Of course that would otherwise imply handling the… thing. Oh geez.

Setting down the cactus, Timothy swallowed hard, grabbed the object by its grip and just, slung it up, aiming straight for Jack’s face. He couldn’t say for sure, but he was fairly certain he heard Jack scream before he ducked in cover as the damned thing went sailing through the air and back in through his window. “That’s what you get!” Then he added, “bitch!”

“Are you crazy! That could’ve hit me!”

“I’m sorry it didn’t!” Then, again he made in addition, “asshole!” Because somehow swearing made him feel at least a little better about the whole situation.

Jack peered cautiously back out his window, “rude.”

Timothy opened his mouth to reply, but really, how does one respond to that? One doesn’t, that’s how. Making an unintelligible sound, Timothy threw his hands in the air, and made his way back into his apartment. Or at least he was going too. Until Jack seemed to have something more to say.

“Wait!”

Timothy paused, not entirely sure he cared to know what the other man had to say. But he had to admit he was little curious. “What?”

There was a pause before Timothy could hear Jack clearing his throat. “Wanna go get coffee some time?”

Timothy blinked, then promptly went inside without a response.


End file.
